


Unnatural

by pancake_potch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 7th year, AU after OotP, F/M, Head Boy and Girl, defeated voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_potch/pseuds/pancake_potch
Summary: Ron can't be the only one that realizes what's going on with Hermione, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Second attempt at HP fic. Let us just assume that Voldemort was defeated in some non-traumatizing way back in the Trio’s 6th year. Also, for the sake of this story, Ron and Hermione never had any romantic notions toward each other, yeah? Go easy on me folks! This was actually inspired by a story called “Blaise Zabini and The Difficult of Existing” by Starkidsftw. 
> 
>  
> 
> I actually intended this story to be a That ‘70’s Show one-shot with a Jackie Burkhart/Eric Forman pairing, but instead here we are.

Merlin, it’s good to be Ron Weasley. It’s two weeks into his final year of schooling and he’s got nothing to worry about except for N.E.W.T.S. Voldemort, who threatened his whole world, had been killed and his family was safe. And, there were _so many_ fit girls around that were interested in one of the wizards that fought that Dark Arse, that it was rather hard to keep all of his appointments.

 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

“Blimey, Hermione,” Ron says, taken aback. “Kindly pull that wand out your arse. It was just a question.” He only asked that she help him with his Transfiguration essay, not _write_ it. Yet, her verbal wrath knocked him off his feet, as if her words contained a physical manifestation of her temperament.

 

“ _Ron.”_ Harry warns from the seat next to him.

 

“You really ought not to screech like a banshee,” Ron says, ignoring Harry. “You may well scare poor Seamus if he heard you.”

 

“Oi!” A voice behind him says.

 

Ron looks over his shoulder, over the sofa back. “Don’t worry, Finnigan.” He says looking at the Irishman with a puffed up chest. “I helped kill Voldemort. I’ll save you from the banshees. Especially this one.” He jerks his thumb at the fuming Head Girl standing in front of him.

 

“ _Ronald_.” Hermione looks as if she might murder him on the spot. She has that look in her eye, hands perched on her hips, and he knows she’ll charm his underpants to say something embarrassing, or something of the like.

 

“Right, right. Sorry. How’s the Head Girl business going anyway?” He asks in order to distract her.

 

Surprisingly, she huffs out a breath and answers instead of chewing him out. “That’s what I came up here for, actually. I was just going to tell you that I’m entirely too busy to help you two,” she pauses and gives Harry a look, “with school work. I can’t very well sit your N.E.W.Ts for you can I? I mean, I’ll help obviously, but-“ some sort of weird compulsion makes her glance down at her wrist watch, “-drat, I’ve got to go. Draco and I need to sort out the prefects schedules.” Without looking back, Hermione leaves in a rush, leaving her two best friends slightly dumbfounded.

 

Hermione has always been a bit high strung, but since the start of the year, she’s been positively nutty. More than usual, really.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

It’s two months into the school year, and Hermione is as busy as ever. She’s been Head Girl-ing her way around Hogwarts and tutoring students and whatever else she does, Ron knows. He _knows_ , but he still misses the days when they were younger and spent nearly all their time together. Well, except that whole Dark Wizard business back then. Obviously, he doesn’t miss _that_.

 

It isn’t until he sees her on the staircase walking toward the Great Hall, that something occurs to him. She’s smiling and flushed as she passes the other meandering students on their way to breakfast.

 

She’s been cagey and distracted since the term began and it’s odd that Ron is the only one to notice. He’s never been the most observant of souls, but Harry acts like nothing is amiss, and when he tried to bring it up once before, Harry just mumbled something abut _the_ _library,_ and _you know how she is_ , and all that.

 

“What’re you so happy about,” he asks as he approaches. Hermione unsuccessfully tries to hide her smile, and shoves her hands in her robe pockets.

 

“Oh, I -nothing really,” she stammers. Ron notices how flustered she seems, and it’s so _un-Hermione_ like, that the suspicion grows a bit stronger. “Just, um, you know. It’s a beautiful day- shouldn’t you be getting in for breakfast?”

 

He raises an eyebrow at her. She’s could lie to adults when it suited her, but she was never a good liar when it came to him and Harry, and it’s all but glaringly obvious she’s trying to divert his attention.

 

“’Course. I’m not one for missing a meal. You coming?” He deliberately says it nonchalantly, trying his best to act less _Ron_ -like with his suspicions. After all these years, he’s learned how to handle his best friend in order to avoid her ire. Well, _most_ of the time anyway.

 

Hermione darts her eyes around a second before answering. “I, yes. I’ll join you in a moment. There’s…I have to grab something real fast. Save me a seat, okay?” Then she’s gone before he can answer her.

 

Ron’s eyes narrow as he watches her hop back up the staircase. There’s definitely something going on, and he’s pretty sure he knows what it is.

 

 

 

“She’s seeing someone, isn’t she?” He asks Harry as soon as he takes a seat.

 

Harry looks up, slightly confused. “Who?”

 

“ _Hermione,”_ Ron says. Who else would he be talking about? Really, for being The Chosen One, he could be so thick at times.

 

“What?” Harry looks around as if the answer is within the Gryffindor table. “Who…who would Hermione be dating? Wait. Why would you think that anyway? She’d tell us.” He looks at Ron as if _he’s_ the one who has gone ‘round the bend and has been acting all sorts of strange.

 

“You think it’s that Finch-Fletchley guy? ” Ron asks, because she has been seen in various places around he castle with him, although it isn’t as if she’s been spotted sneaking into broom closets or anything. But, _still_.

 

“Who?”

 

Oh honestly. “You know. That moony faced Hufflepuff bloke.”

 

Harry lifts himself halfway off the bench to search the Hufflepuff table. His eyes dart around for a brief moment before he settles back down and gives Ron a look. “I don’t think so. And really, so what? Why do you care?”

 

“Mate, I don’t. But it’s our jobs to look out for her. She can be positively mental, you know, and who knows who she might agree to go out with when she’s all flustered and whatnot. Remember that McClaggen tosser?”

 

Harry squints back at the Hufflepuff table. “Doesn’t she tutor him?” Ron rolls his eyes as Harry continues, “I think she’s also tutoring a couple of Ravenclaw firsties. D’you think she’s dating them, too?”

 

Ron shovels eggs into his mouth; slightly annoyed that Harry is brushing all this aside. The three of them _take care_ of each other- that’s what they _do_.

 

“Speaking of Hufflepuffs, don’t you have a date with Hannah in the tower?” Harry reaches for the pumpkin juice and pauses mid- pour, as he looks at Ron. “Or, is it Lavender again?”

 

“Lay off. You’re just jealous,” Ron huffs. Harry gives him an expectant look. “I mean, how can you choose just one, yeah? They’ve both got,” Ron looks around before leaning over the table and holding his hands comically far away from his chest.

 

“ _Charming_ , Ron.” Hermione says as she lifts one leg, then the other over the bench next to him, as Harry laughs.

 

“Speaking of _charming_ ,” Ron starts, looking at her, “you gonna ever charm us with your presence? We hardly see each other anymore-the three of us.”

 

Her hair is sort of a mess, he notices, but decides the best thing to do is not to say anything. Hermione gives him and Harry a small smile. “You’re right. I’ve been entirely too busy. Hogsmead weekend is coming up.”

 

Ron nods, because it’s her way of saying they’ll at least spend time together there.

 

The next twenty minutes are spent laughing and planning between the three of them. It feels like old times to Ron, times where they weren’t near their adult lives, destined to live apart, no matter what promises they’ve made to each other.

 

“…And that’s when Percy decided he was going to join Gobstones International-“

 

“Granger.”

 

The trio looked up to find Malfoy standing at the Gryffindor table. _Of course._

 

“What d’you want?” Ron asks, annoyed not just at the interruption of his story, but at _who_ interrupted it.

 

Malfoy has the bollocks to ignore him, because all he says is, “ _Granger_ ,” again. Ron looks at Hermione to see her turn an absurd shade of red, and isn’t quite looking Malfoy in the eye, while she’s fumbling around with her bag.

 

Ron looks to Harry to see if he’ll say anything about this breach in inter-house etiquette, but Harry’s nose is scrunched up as if he smells something bad, and is staring Malfoy down.

 

Fine. If he’s not going to say anything, then Ron will.

 

“Not understand English, then? What’re you doing here?”

 

 _That_ causes Malfoy to turn his attention to Ron. “The Head Girl and I have an appointment with the Headmaster this morning,”

 

“So?” Ron turns around fully to face the interloper. “Send an owl, or some such. There’s no need to come over here.”

 

Malfoy looks at him as if he’s the stupidest wizard alive. “That’s not exactly practical, now is it? Perhaps I should have bellowed across the Hall like some sort of uncouth Gryffindor?” With each word, he’s inching closer to Ron, and Ron can’t help but raise himself slowly from his seat.

 

“Ron.” A hand lands on his arm, and Hermione pushes him back down into his seat. “It’s fine. We have a, um, a meeting.”

 

Ron looks to Hermione now, but she won’t look at him. She’s taking one last drink out of her goblet while turning to get up. He switches his gaze to Harry, who doesn’t do anything but raise an eyebrow. Movement out of the corner of his eyes makes him turn to see Malfoy’s hand extended to help her up.

 

Malfoy’s _hand_. To help the _Muggle-born_.

 

Then he sees Hermione’s hand _accept_ the offer.

 

Then they’re _touching_. _Touching hands_.

 

 _Malfoy_ and their _Hermione_.

 

Ron feels his stomach drop because surely the Great Hall will erupt into flames any minute now and he _cannot_ be the only one witnessing such an unnatural act. Perhaps the Earth will fly into the Sun because this was as bizarre as Voldemort sitting right down at the Gryffindor table.

 

After she leaves, he turns to Harry again. “Didja see that? I mean, really?” All Harry did was just _look_ at him. “What?”

 

“They’re Heads, yeah? They’re bound to spend time together.” Oh _of course_ Harry doesn’t see. If it doesn’t involve life-threating situations, then it doesn’t _matter_.

_Oh Merlin’s beard. It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?_

Ron glances back at the double doors as if that will confirm his suspicions.

 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE Ron Weasley, but I just don’t love him with Hermione

“It’s absurd, you realize?” Harry is slowly losing his patience with him, he knows. Nobody believes him, and that’s what’s so bloody irritating about this whole mess.

 

“I didn’t say anything about the absurdity of it, I just said I know I’m _right_ about it” Ron counters indignantly.

 

“Really? You really think Hermione- _our Hermione_ \- is… involved with that ponce?”

 

Ron stops walking. “ _Ooooh_ ,” he says in a low voice, “I forgot that when old Voldy was in your head, not only were you able to speak Parsletongue, you became a Seer as well.” He shakes his head. “You should’ve told me, Harry.”

 

Harry stops too, and faces Ron. “Come off it, will you? And, isn’t divination Lav Lav’s thing?”

 

“Tell me. What do you _see_ in the future? Losing five galleons because I’m right?”

 

Harry gives Ron a playful shove. “Do you think Lav sees you with your hand up Hannah Abbott’s skirt at the bottom of a tea cup?”

 

Ron nudges him back. “Don’t change the subject. I get it, mate,” he continues with concern, “you grew up in a cupboard. I don’t expect you to understand when a girl’s acting weird.”

 

“Funny. What I _see_ right now is me pummeling you.”

 

“Save it for Malfoy.”

 

“Save- if you’re so sure about this, why aren’t you, you know, yelling or making a scene.” Harry suddenly has a worried look on his face, and seems to be examining Ron. “Is this some sort of rage - _fugue_ state?”

 

“Rage…what? For your information, I’m _strategizing_.” He _was_ too. All the delightful ways he could make The Great Git Malfoy suffer. There was so much to choose from, especially if he enlisted the help of Fred and George. Ron is damn near euphoric with the plans he’s come up with.

 

Harry starts walking again, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Strategizing what, Ron? The numerous way you’ll have to apologize to Hermione for making an such an _embarrassment_ of yourself- _and_ her?”

 

Ron can’t help the dreamy look he gets. “Strategizing how we’ll hang Malfoy by the innards from the rafters of the Great Hall. Think of it when it’s charmed to snow. It’ll be a sight to behold.”

 

Harry chuckles. “I’m not entirely opposed to it.”

 

It sounds like Harry has finally seen what’s… _to be seen_. It’s about time. Carrying this burden alone has been rough going.  

 

“It’s not happening, though-” Harry cuts into his thoughts.

 

“What’s not?”

 

“Ron, did some stray curse hit you, or something? _Hermione_ _and_ _Malfoy_. Whatever you think is going on _isn’t_. What would she see in him anyway?”

 

_That’s_ what Ron can’t figure out. He’s so sure about this, although he can’t ever begin to reason why anyone would ever voluntarily spend time with such an arsehole-

 

Oh no.

 

_Oh no_. Ron pales, and stops walking again. Harry continues ahead of him, not noticing, until he looks to his side and sees he’s alone.

 

“Ron. Snape will have our hide if we’re late.” Ron feels a yank on his robe, and realizes the halls have nearly emptied, but suddenly he doesn’t care. A horrifying thought has suddenly rushed to the forefront of his mind.

 

“ _Ron_.”

 

“Oh, Harry,” Ron nearly whispers.

 

The fear is so apparent in his voice that Harry darts around looking for some unseen threat.

 

“ _Harry_. I once heard that pug-faced harpy Parkinson say that Malfoy’s knob was as thick as leg of lamb.” Ron looks directly into Harry’s eyes. “What if,” he swallows thickly, “do you think- Hermione-“

 

“ _What?_ That’s- that’s _disgusting_. _Truly_ disgusting. Why would you even… _No_.” Now Harry looks positively ill.

 

“But- girls talk about that sort of thing, don’t they? Compare, I mean? Like _bits_ \- _boy’s_ bits”

 

“Really, this is Hermione we’re talking about. Do you really think she engages in that sort of talk?” Ron is letting himself be led by Harry toward the staircase to the dungeons, because he can’t trust himself to walk.

 

_Right. This is Hermione. She wouldn’t lower herself to that sort of gossip, would she?_

“Whatever you do,” Harry says, “never, _ever_ mention…Malfoy’s… _leg of lamb_ again. Are we clear?”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The next couple of weeks are spent in hyper-awareness. Ron is constantly cognizant of Hermione and Malfoy and where they were in proximity of each other. The few classes they all share are difficult enough without having to be constantly vigilant of how they act around with one another.

 

They trade polite ‘hellos’ in the halls as they pass each other, and he thinks he sees Hermione stare a little too long on occasion.

 

They even smile at each other.

 

Hermione and Malfoy _smile_ and give quick little glances at dinner and lunch. How in the world is nobody else noticing any of this?

 

He tries to point out to Harry, but all he says is, “The way you’re carrying on, are you sure _you’re_ not the one secretly dating him?”

 

“Please. I’m entirely too dapper for the likes of him.”

 

“Of course.” Harry agrees.

 

“I’m quite the catch, you know.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Sacred Twenty-Eight, and all,” Ron adds with faux haughtiness. “Champion against Dark Wizards _and_ rather handsome.”

 

“Malfoy clearly doesn’t know what he’s missing, then.” Harry looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Especially since he’s probably snogging Hermione at the moment.”

 

Ron’s eyes widen. “So you see it, too? I know you would eventually. Bloody hell, Harry, took you long enough. What are we going to do about it, then?” He looks to Harry, all renewed determination until he sees the smirk playing across his lips.

 

“Shut up, Harry.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Ron’s searched the grounds and what he thinks might be the entirety of the castle looking for Harry, but he can’t be found anywhere. He wanted to enlist his help to run interference with Lavender Brown, so that he’d be able to meet up with some cute sixth-year Ravenclaw he wasn’t sure he knew the name of.

 

The only place he hadn’t checked was with Hermione, and he at least knew where _she’d_ be.

 

Darting around bookcases, he spotted her at the end of a table, stack of books balanced next to her.

 

“Hey you.”

 

Startled, she jumped and turned around. “Oh! Hello, Ron. What brings you here?”

 

Looking for her, obviously. Why else would he voluntarily be in the library?

 

“Looking for you, obviously.” He sits down next to her and peers at the parchment she’s writing on, surely to be something entirely uninteresting-and he’s right. “Say, you seen Harry anywhere? Can’t seem t’find him.”

 

Hermione fidgets with her quill, and starts to that cagey thing she’s been doing all year. “Oh, um, Harry? I believe he wandered down to the lake not twenty minutes ago. If you go quick, you’ll be able to catch him. Like right now, even.”

 

Ron blinks at Hermione. “Sure.”

 

“Really. I’m busy anyway, as you can see, it’s best if you get a move on.”

 

“You know, you’re my best friend-“

 

“Of course, Ron-“

 

“-But right now I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me. I’m hurt, Hermione. Downright wounded.”

 

She turns her attention back to the parchment. “If you’re looking for our _other_ best friend, go down to the lake. He’s meeting Luna there.”

 

_What?_

 

“Luna?” He asks. “Lovegood?”

 

Hermione sighs. “ _Yes_. Now, you should probably get going-“

 

“-What, wait, _why_ is he meeting Luna Lovegood-“

 

A soft _thump_ cuts him off as Draco Malfoy places a book at the same table they’re sitting at. So _this_ is why Hermione was trying to get him to leave.

 

He _knew_ it.

 

“Granger.”

 

Hermione clears her throat. “Draco.”

 

“ _Weaselbee.”_

 

“Hullo, you inbred ponce. What’re you doing here?” He watches Malfoy take the seat directly across from Hermione as he flings his bag on the empty chair next to him.

 

“ _Ronald_.” Hermione hisses.

 

“This is the library. What exactly are _you_ doing here?” Malfoy counters.

 

The _nerve_ of him. “I’m here talking to _my_ friend. So, if you don’t mind.” Ron waves him off and turns in his chair to get closer to Hermione, while turning his back on Malfoy.

 

“Of course. I suspected you never learned to read-“

 

“ _Draco_.”

 

_Ha_. Good, now she’ll be mad at _him._


End file.
